In a Moment
by WindSong1
Summary: Ummm. My first fanfic. Don't kill me if it stinks. It's about Skywise. Uhh, he's dying, I guess. It's through the eyes of his daughter. Not Yun, a diff. one. Are you surprised?


In a Moment.  
  
  
My father is dying. The scent has lingered beside him for a long time now. I can't understand why I didn't notice it before. Perhaps, I did not see because I didn't wish to see. Something in my wolf-blood told me if I denied it, it wouldn't happen.   
  
My mother sits beside him, holding his hand tightly. She is not crying. Her grief is too deep. Like a terrible wound, all she fells now is shock. She sits quietly, and waits for the heart-rending tears, and the unspeakable pain, the pain too deep for words. I was told that when my parents first Recognized, she had fought till my father, Skywise, had begun to fear death. I could never imagine that. Perhaps it had something to do with what Rayek did, but they completed each other, as life-mates should.   
  
My mother. As she sits beside him, I realize I have not really looked at her in years. Her silky, dark brown hair has streaks of silver in it, and she seems… tired… defeated? Strange. Every time I look at her, I seem to see a young Wolfrider maiden, full of life and energy, a never-ending source of protection and guidance. She is only nine turns younger than my father. Only a moment in the long lifespan of the elves. High Ones! Does that mean I will lose her, too, in a moment?  
  
I have always known my parents would die. The wolf blood that made us smart, fast, and up to any challenge, it is a blessing. We have heightened senses, even compared with other elves. We hunt, smell, stalk, and act like wolves. The earth's bounty is ours… at a price. Death. Those same wolves that gave us all also makes us fade back into the soil when our time comes. That is what caused the Gliders to call us 'tainted'. Well, if we are 'tainted', so be it! I would pay that price, pay it gladly, for the 'Way', the 'now' of wolf thought, the things the wolves gave us as gifts when our blood first mingled with theirs. But my father, with his eyes always fixed on the stars…  
  
I would give my life to keep my mother from feeling this pain. It hurts her the most, I know. The light has gone from her eyes, and it seems she will never smile again. Her face is pale, and as she sits on the furs beside him, holding his hand, she is tense. Every time someone comes into the room, she flinches. Even when Cutter, our chief, my father's soul-brother, comes in, she winces. Even he is not part of her world, not now. Her entire universe is centered on her dying life-mate.   
  
What is my universe? As my father's breath becomes fainter, I think it is shattered. I know that I will never be able to look at the world the same way again.   
  
My father, my teacher, my friend, has only a short time to live. I know it; I can smell it. I want to show him the stars, this one last time. My father always had his eyes on the heavens. I remember him telling me and my twin brother, Argent, stories, short tales about the stars and the night sky. I realize now that I didn't listen to the stories as much as I listened to his voice, watched his gestures, felt my beloved twin lean against my shoulder, watched my mother, lay, flat on her stomach, her feet in the air, pretending not to listen, but probably as interested, if not moire so, than me and my brother. It is only now that I realize what love is. That is love. That, and what my parents feel for each other.   
  
Many in the tribe doubted that my father would ever Recognize, much less love. My mother, herself, felt that way. Until she Recognized him. Most of the tribe couldn't believe it. Mother gave my sending pictures, when I was younger, of the tribe's reaction when first confessed the Recognition. I can still see it clearly; Strongbow's eyes getting wider and wider, Cutter's jaw practically on the ground, Nightfall saying "I-I …I think I need to sit down, Aroree… That memory had made my mother grin wickedly. She had HATED Aroree. She had been very fond of Windkin, even though she hated his father, Tyldak. I remember her saying "Personally, I would have LOVED to kick that winged horror's tail up and down the forest a bit, just to teach him a lesson in manners. How DARE he Recognize our Dewshine?!?!?"   
  
  
My mother's pointed, elegant ears prick as I walk into the room. My twin is away, but he is here with us, if only in our minds. I think his soul is here. It was the Palace's influence that made us both be born. When I asked Leetah about it, she launched into a long-tailed lecture about how the Palace does this and that and I got nothing out of it but a head-ache. Mother just says that the Palace makes magic more potent, and Recognition is a magic (of sorts) and we were born. I think Mother is right.   
  
I lean down, embrace her. She holds onto me tightly for a moment, drawing comfort from the child she and my father created out of love. Then I gently, carefully hug my father. The pan in my chest makes it hard to breath. I turn, walk out of the chamber as my father's final moments draw near. I leave for two reasons; I can't bear to watch and also, I have an idea. I will show him the stars, this one last time.   
  
I climb the tallest tree I can find. Parting the branches, I lock-send with my father. He doesn't resist; I think he knows my intention. Why not? He knows my soul-name. All elven parents know their children's soul-names.   
  
I look up, gazing at various constellations; the Hunter, the Wolf. I look at the two moons, full and shining with an unearthly light. I turn to show him the star that never moves, the star that points the way to the land of snow, the eternal white-cold. Then lastly, I show him a pair of stars. They are not too big, not overly bright, just your average stars. But they are my parents' stars, given to them when they first came together to create my twin and me, and forging an eternal bond.  
  
I feel my father's gratitude, and my mother's. Her mind, too, is linked with his. I, gently as I can, break off my contact. These are their final moments together. That is a grief too sacred for me to intrude upon, too deep for me to comprehend. Wolves mate for life, and so do Wolfriders. My mother and father are linked forever. Only death can sever that bond, and even then, not completely.  
  
  
Moonshade says death is but another beginning. But, how can my mother possibly begin again, without him? Compared with my mother's my own grief seems selfish and hollow.   
  
  
The time draws near. The dark angel approaches! ' Oh, High Ones,' I plead silently as I hold onto the tree, gripping the bark, tears streaming down my face, sobs wracking my body, 'Let it be quick! Don't let him suffer long. Please!'  
  
  
My soul aches as my head falls into my hands. My father has breathed his last.   



End file.
